


Heal Me

by inber



Series: Inber's Eskel x Reader Fanfiction [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Brothels, Come Shot, Eskel is Precious, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Free Sex For Eskel, Messy, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Prostitution, Self-Esteem Issues, Smut, We Love Eskel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:16:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23614372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inber/pseuds/inber
Summary: Eskel frequents your brothel as a patron. He can't see himself as beautiful or worthy, so you'll show him that he is. Contains hypersensitive praise-kink Witcher, which is my favourite kind of Witcher.
Relationships: Eskel (The Witcher)/Reader
Series: Inber's Eskel x Reader Fanfiction [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1840096
Comments: 34
Kudos: 325





	Heal Me

You think you love him the most like this.

The lanterns in the room were burning so low that the flame stuttered, but your eyes had become accustomed to the dark. He prefers it this way. Says he doesn’t want you to have to see, when you lay with him.

But you do see. And he’s gorgeous. Beneath your hand, sweat-slick and panting, he’s breathtaking.

He never has to work, here. Never has to beg or ask. You only need him to accept what you give him.

At first it was hard, almost impossible. The first few times you saw him, you’d groaned about how handsome he was, and he’d frozen up. Then he’d withdrawn, paid you your fee in full, and had left.

But he came back. He came back again and again. In time, you learned that it didn’t matter what words you chose – he’d reject them. Stubborn. Convinced of his disfigurement.

So you found other ways to show him what you thought of his beauty. The way you pressed kisses against the pulse of his wrists when you laid beside him. The way you stuttered his name in reverence when he skilfully brought you to orgasm with his mouth. The way you rubbed his back and combed his hair and hummed sweet melodies you remembered from the far-away fragments of your childhood.

You rode him on the furs before the fireplace, now. The hearth hosted embers, barely glowing, but it was enough for you to see the slackening of his jaw as you rolled your hips in a slow, erotic rhythm that he thrust up to meet in a delicious tempo. His hands were tight on your waist, his gleaming gaze squeezed shut under the sensation of it all.

“Eskel,” You keened, arching your back, grinding your clit hard against the slope of his rigid pelvis, “ _Gods_ , baby... I’m coming _again_.” It was barely a whisper, and something of an incredulity. The silky rhythm of your orgasm drew a low moan from him as you braced on his chest, trembling. Awash with the fizzy bliss, you rocked in little jolts, and felt the tremble of his cock deep within your friction-fucked walls.

He exposed the pale column of his throat as he threw his head back and came, fingers flexing on your skin, his breath turning ragged. You heard him curse beneath his breath, a chant of words, and as your climax tapered off you coaxed his into a frenzy with your clever clenching. The heat of him filled your belly, and he gradually began to relax, although he did not withdraw, and he did not soften.

Gods, how you loved Witcher stamina. How you loved this Witcher. How you wished he _knew_.

“You feel amazing.” You breathed, and you delighted in his rough chuckle. Compliments about his strength and the girth the Gods had blessed him with – those he’d accept, albeit wordlessly. Lazily, he palmed your tits, and you hissed at the sensation of his rough fingers on your sensitive nipples, a teasing squeeze. Experimentally, you rocked; you felt the hot drip of his seed become messy between you, but you didn’t care. He flinched, still recovering.

“Can’t believe how many times you’ve made me come.” You purred, lust-drunk, and you felt his cock pulse powerfully within you. _That_ caught your interest. You could not wax poetic about his appearance, but he couldn’t deny that he made you feel good. He’d been the one to smell the arousal on you when he’d entered the brothel on the first day you’d met.

“Fucking up into me so _strong_ ,” You continued, licking your lips, raking your nails down the sculpt of his powerful abdomen, careful of scars, “I’m gonna feel you for days, Eskel. When I walk, _every_ step,” Again, the hard throb, “ _Every_ time I sit. I’ll think about how good you made me feel.”

“Don’t—” His teeth were pinched together, and in the dim light, you could see the confusion on his face, “I-I can’t—” 

“Hope you’ve left bruises on my hips again.” Your voice was a purr, “I love looking at them and remembering how _good_ you fuck me apart.”

He made a strangled groan as you focused your thumbs on his nipples, circling the puckered skin there. You could feel a tell-tale twitch begin within you, and encouragingly, you squeezed around him.

“Nobody makes me feel like you do.” You confessed, truthfully, “Nobody makes me come like you. It’s _so good_. It’s so fucking _good_.”

“ _Fuck!_ ” He made a half-sob, pulling you tight to his body, his grip on your ass strong enough to leave marks in the shape of his fingers. The flood of his come was sudden and copious within you, the quivering of his dick so powerful that you felt the pound of his pulse with every jet of seed that he spilled into you. You hadn’t even moved; you’d simply cooed atop him and had summarily shattered his mind apart in the strongest climax you’d ever seen anyone – man or mutant – endure. By the time he was spent, there was a puddle beneath you, and he was still gasping and flexing, utterly bewildered.

For your part, you were the most aroused you’d been in your entire life.

But it wasn’t a time to be selfish, even if your clit was pounding. He was coming down from an intense high, his muscles gradually relaxing, his grip softening. There was a sheen across his eyes, and he audibly whimpered, vulnerable.

“Hey, now,” You whispered, “I’m here. You’ve got me. It’s okay. It’s _okay_.”

He was still balls-deep within you, but you were too scared to pull away in case the sensation jolted him. Instead you laid forward, your head resting over his heart. It was racing, by Witcher standards. You drew small circles on his chest with your fingertips, careful.

“I-I don’t... I’ve never felt...” He sounded intoxicated, and he was shivering ever-so slightly. “Never felt like that.” Incredulity touched his voice.

“Did it feel...” You didn’t want to use the word ‘good’; that clearly had positive ties for him, “Nice? Okay?”

“No.” He actually laughed. You’d never heard him laugh. “It felt _incredible_. I feel so... light.”

You grinned, placing a kiss over the place that his heart beat. It was slowing. “You let go for me, darling.” You told him, “That’s what it feels like, to be in a moment. To accept it.”

In silence, he stroked your hair, considering this new information. “I liked it very much.” He decided, after a time.

“So did I.” You said, raising your chin to look up at him. “And I meant what I said.”

He almost looked frightened for a moment, and you think you understood why when his cock trembled within you. “I can’t... again. Not tonight. I-I don’t know if I’d _survive_ it.”

“I’m asking nothing of you, Eskel.” You assured him, “Just... hold me, awhile. And then we’ll bathe, okay?”

He made a soft noise of agreement, and you settled against him, deep in thought. This was something you had to explore. For him to accept and let go. He had so much unresolved tension, so much self-loathing. He deserved freedom from it, even if only temporarily. You could give that to him.

When you began to shiver from the lack of warmth from the fireplace, he gradually rose, helping you up with him. You both donned robes and headed to the baths, choosing a private room to clean yourselves in. Nothing needed to be said; you washed, careful and almost shy with one another. Sometimes he met your eye, and sometimes his gaze skittered away boyishly. You swore you saw him blush.

Back at your room, you helped him into his armour. He felt the purse at his side, and sighed.

“I can’t say when I will see you again.” There was an apology in his voice. “Work has been... scarce.”

You nibbled your lower lip. “Forgive me if I’m too forward, Eskel, but... I would see you outside of work. Gladly. I prefer your company to your coin.” He lowered his head, then, and you wondered if you’d overstepped. You squeezed his hands, and tried to recapture his gaze. “Please do not misunderstand me – I would not see you out of pity. I would see you because I _want_ to.”

Gradually, he raised his eyes, and you were privy to the whirlpool of golden emotion within them, even if his scarred features remained relatively impassive. “Really?”

“I would make for a terrible whore if I gave all my clients my address, would I not? Eskel, buy food and treats for Lil’ Bleater. I’ve coin enough.” You pressed your lips to the palm of his hand. “Near the outskirts of town, there’s an old well. The row of white houses down the lane from there – mine is the one with the ivy growing up the front, and the rosemary bush that is... getting out of hand.”

He said nothing, merely nodded once, tucking the information away. You weren’t sure if that meant he was accepting your offer or not, but at least it was made. “Goodbye.” He told you, and headed for the door like he had done so many times before. But this time, he paused. “Thank... thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Eskel.” You said, half-a-smile teasing your lips. “My pleasure.”

He muttered something and departed. You couldn’t be entirely sure, but you thought that he’d whispered, ‘ _It’s been mine, love’_.

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow my Tumblr @inber for my general ramblings, if you'd like. Thanks for reading!


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